Informer
by Roofran411
Summary: Arianna has agreed to act as Zen's informer, perhaps she is getting in deeper than she thought.


INFORMER

Zen and Me: Arianna

This is a second story about Arianna and Zen.

Zen was created by Michael Dibdin; I play with him for my own amusement.

Rufus Sewell brought him to life for the screen and Valentina Cervi, as Arianna, partnered him.

I am sorry to say that I have never been to the Eternal City, and so although I know there is a bridge Ponte Castel San Angelo, I do not know if there are embankments or steps to them or a Hotel Rivoli near by.

My apologies to those who know better.

.

.

The song for this story is 'I have dreamed' by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. It was the words that first attracted me and I searched and searched for the right performance of it and found it at last; a very old recording by a young Yul Brynner and Gertrude Lawrence.

.

I Have Dreamed 

I have dreamed that your arms are lovely.

I have dreamed what a joy you'd be

I have dreamed every word you whisper

When you are close, close to me.

How you look in the glow of evening

I have dreamed and enjoyed the view

In these Dreams I've loved you so.

That by now I think I know

What it is to be loved by you.

I will love being loved by you

INFORMER

"Zen." his voice came over the line.

I took a breath, then another.

"It's me," I said "Arianna."

He waited; I could hear him take a drag on his cigarette. I took another quick breath.

"I think I may, um "

"Listen," he interrupted. "Where we left Ruspanti. Meet me there. Today? 6pm ? Don't speak to me."

The phone was dead.

Meet him where we left Ludo?

But he was dead.

Zen knew that.

I had not been up very long and I was sitting outside on my balcony in my negligee with a cup of black coffee to wake myself up. I pushed my hair wearily out of my eyes

I had not got home until almost four.

And it was now? God, it's only 9 o'clock.

It was too early for me to be working out puzzles.

It had been a very late night.

I had attended a society function until late and my companion had been rather demanding afterwards, but that is what I am paid for.

That's my job, an 'escort'.

That's right, a prostitute, a highly paid one with clients in high places; Government Ministers, society leaders, princes, including one or two who wore the scarlet of Princes of the Church.

Zen is not a client.

He is a police officer. He had been the investigating officer on Ruspanti's case; it was how we had met and he had he asked me if I would be an informant.

A snout! Me?

Zen thought with my connections, my clientele, I might see or hear things which could help him.

.

I had agreed, in spite of remembering Ludo's words of advice. _'Never tell the cops anything._'

I could not refuse him.

Zen. Not Ludo.

Ludo is dead.

I miss him still.

That was nearly four months ago.

Four months since Zen said 'ciao.'

I kept my eyes and ears open. There had been nothing, nothing at all. Till last night.

That is why I am sitting here, bleary-eyed, soggy- brained, struggling to work out some damned stupid secret message.

To tell him what?

I don't know what; or even if there is anything to tell.

Someone spoke to someone else who spoke to a third; no more than half a dozen words each. That is what you do at receptions, isn't it?

And yet, and yet I felt it was something I should tell him. Zen.

And a word I wasn't sure of; a word more mouthed than heard. A word that I think he had asked me about four months ago when Ludo died. But I am not sure. Perhaps I will not tell him.

Sighing, I picked up my coffee and decided to try to get more sleep before trying to decipher what he had meant.

I was half way across the room to my bed, when I stopped.

_Where we left Ruspanti._

Prince Ludovico Ruspanti was dead.

Cremated.

Zen was with me when I scattered his ashes.

Over the Tiber.

From the Ponte Castel san Angelo.

. . . . .

I chose what I was going to wear very carefully. A sludgy pampas green shift , carefully understated, reaching just to my knees, designed to flatter my figure, my legs, my dark red hair and hazel eyes; toning green high heeled sling -backs and a big floppy- brimmed hat.

I may be a copper's nark but I am an expensive one. I like to look good, and besides...

Besides.

It was rush hour when I parked my car two blocks down from the bridge. I reached for my hat and pulled it on, then my bag and my sunglasses and walked along to it. I could see him on the brow leaning, relaxed, on the balustrade. Smoking his ever present cigarette.

Today I was starting a second career, equally disreputable as my first.

Informer.

My knees were shaking and my stomach churning.

Or was something else causing it?

He turned his head, his eyes casually sweeping the crowd. If he saw me, he gave no sign.

Half a dozen paces from him. I stopped and resting my bag on the balustrade, I rummaged in it.

He looked out over the river; I could barely hear what he said.

"Go to the end of the bridge, cross to the left, and turn down the steps to the embankment. The Rivoli hotel is opposite, go up the outside stairs to the roof bar, take the furthest table from the stairs, overlooking the road. "

The bar was empty; the early evening crowd had not yet started to arrive.

The table was shaded by vines and I could see the bridge without being seen. He was still there. He continued to sweep the crowds as thought waiting for someone.

A waiter approached me.

I asked for a black coffee.

As if he had made up his mind, Zen turned and walked to the end of the bridge, turned right and disappeared down the embankment steps. I lost sight of him.

I waited, for him and my coffee.

I heard from behind me, the faint scrape of a chair being pulled out. I turned.

He was there.

He sat down at the table behind me, facing the terrace, fishing in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter.

Detective Chief Inspector Aurelio Zen, Criminalpol di Roma, Murder Squad.

.

Zen.

Six feet tall, broad, without a scrap of spare flesh,

A navy blue suit, matching tie and a sparkling white shirt, elegant as ever.

His dark curly hair cropped short as usual and the bright early evening sun caught a sprinkle of silver.

His face was one of a Venetian prince or from a Renaissance painting, with the paler skin tones of Northern Italians, high cheek bones, long straight nose, sculptured mouth curved in a little smile and his big green eyes alive with laughter.

"Is there any need for all this cloak and dagger?" I asked tartly. "It is only-"

He flicked his forefinger an inch or so to hush me as the waiter approached and put down my coffee.

"Sir?"

"A beer, please."

He waited again, still smiling.

_He had told me," If people suspect that you pass on info. then they will be extra careful around you. If we are careful, then no-one will find out. They relax. I'll give you my phone number at the Questura. If you need to get in touch, ring on a land line, preferably a public phone... Don't say anything, just 'it's me'. I will know who it is." I had raised my eyebrow. "Cell phones can be bugged. People followed." _

"You look very nice.

"Thank you"

"How's business?"

"Brisk." I replied.

He winked.

I wanted to have a dig at him.

"Divorce through yet?"

"Not yet." The smile was lost. He lit a cigarette.

"Still smoking! I thought you were giving it up."

"I'm trying, I'm trying."

And your girlfriend, she back?"

"No." he said quietly.

And I felt mean. And glad that she was not back.

"Your mother still with you?"

"Still haven't found anyone to take her off my hands. You don't know anybody? She's a nice woman; a very good cook and housekeeper. Make a lovely wife. Of course I can't say about any other aspect." He winked again.

The waiter arrived with his beer and he put some coins down on the tray.

He watched the man walk away.

"Now."

"I feel a bit foolish now. It may be nothing but I felt... It seems nothing but I felt there was something " I trailed off.

He nodded at me.

"Last night, I was at the Presidential reception. I was with Prince Orvini." I hesitated.

"Business?"

Again I hesitated. I could hear Ruspanti saying_ "Never tell the cops anything_"

"Yes - but he was not my client. He is the cover for someone else." He waited. "He wears a red hat."

He was surprised but not shocked. It seems to me that very little shocks him.

"We were on the peripheral of the Cardinal's party. Count Carossi, his Eminence's lay aide, excused himself to get another glass of wine. I noticed because there were waiters wandering about with tray of drinks and because Carossi's glass was still half full. So out of curiosity I watched him. He stood at the wine table with his back to the room. Then Don Carlucci came and stood near him. They turned and faced the room, not looking at each other. The Don said something, maybe half dozen words; the Count paused and said something. One word, I think. The Don moved away. Then in a while the Count rejoined us, He made his way slowly to the Cardinal and stood behind him, half turned away. He murmured something, again only about six or seven words

Shortly after, the Cardinal made signs that he was leaving. "

Zen stared across the terrace.

"I knew it was nothing. I should not have said anything."

"Hmm?"

His eyes came back to me and he said slowly,

"On the contrary; the capo of Rome's biggest 'family' surreptitiously speaks to the Cardinal's aide who whispers to the Cardinal who leaves soon after. That is very interesting."

He watched his hand turning his lighter over and over.

"Do you do much business with the um... last night's client?"

"Slow but regular."

I watched him.

Hmm"

He stared into space. "The single word? Any idea?"

I shook my head.

"Anything else?" I shook my head again.

"Give me ten minutes, then leave through the bar and down the inside hotel stairs."

He stood and gathering his cigarettes and lighter, slipped them into his pocket.

"Oh! And when you are inside, take off your hat."

He went across the terrace and down the outside steps.

I finished my coffee.

Was that it?

He hadn't drunk his beer.

He hadn't thanked me.

He hadn't said goodbye.

There was a lump in my throat.

Of course, he was maintaining the appearance that we were not together, I told myself but it didn't help.

I made my way back to my car. I was putting the key in the ignition when there was the slightest tap on the nearside wing. I looked up to see him pass, a little flick of his hand in acknowledgement at hip level.

So he had been guarding my back!

I blinked a few times to clear my eyes; glad I was wearing dark glasses.

Another of Ruspanti's rule broken.

_'Don't get involved with the clients.'_

Well, Zen wasn't a client but I was involved.

Whether I liked it or not, I was involved.

.

It was three weeks before I had another engagement with my client.

It was arranged in the usual way.

Orvini rang about seven.

"My dear, would it be convenient for you? This evening? As usual? I will send my car."

His sleek, chauffeur driven Mercedes would arrive at midnight, my fee in an envelope on the back seat, and I would be whisked across the river up into the Vatican and dropped at the entrance to a narrow alley.

Orvini's driver, Cioni, would wait till I slipped through the unlocked door in the long blank wall and would return later for me. I suppose one of the Cardinal's staff would ring him. He was always waiting for me.

I would go down a narrow dim passageway to a room at the end, on a lower level to the main body of the house. It held a bed, two large armchairs and a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I thought it might have been a monk's cell a few centuries ago.

The Cardinal joined me very soon through a second door in the far corner.

He was a big man, taller than Zen and heavy, approaching sixty. He was not handsome but he had, as you would expect, immense presence and charm. Greying hair above a face with big dark eyes surrounded by deep dark shadows from sleepless nights caused by a mind constantly scheming, set above a wide red sensual mouth.

His persuasion was that of President Clinton's.

Non penetration was not sex.

So he was not breaking his vows.

I don't know whether he was fooling himself. He didn't fool me.

But I was well paid for my attentions.

He would have to square his views with God.

We had reached the point where I had undressed and had opened his heavy velvet robe, when there was a faint purr of the house phone. Another man might have cursed.

His Eminence "tst-tst-tst-ed ".

He lifted the phone, listened and putting it down, said "My Dear, excuse me." and left the room through the door he had entered.

His Eminence was not well pleased.

I heard a whisper of voice outside. I tiptoed to the door, silently turned the handle and eased the door open a crack and listened.

I heard very little. I caught words here and there; a voice I thought I recognised until the Cardinal raised his voice slightly.

"No, I ... Tell... Bellatini ... Cabal."

I was back on the bed wrapped in the sheet when he returned and we took up where we left off.

.

"Same time, same place." Zen had said. "If I am not at Ruspanti's place, don't stop."

I got out my red dress, and then I remember what he had said once, "Very Red" and chose a little black dress instead, the one with the deep scoop neck.

Yes!

And piled my hair on top.

He joined me on the roof bar.

"It doesn't seem very much."

I told him.

"But he was angry. It was the mention of Bellatini ...and ..."

I still wasn't sure about the rest, then I went on.

"When I told you, you know, at the reception, there was one word I wasn't sure about? But I am sure now. It was cabal. "

I looked at him. He was resting his elbow on the table, his mouth resting against his fist, his eyes on me.

"Wasn't that what you asked me about? When Ludo died? And didn't Perotto say Ludo said something?"

He stared out over the terrace unseeing, automatically fumbling in his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes.

"There's something else." I nipped the quick of my nail. "I thought I recognised the other voice." Again, I was uncertain.

"I thought...er... I thought it was Amadeo."

He turned his face towards me, but he was still unseeing and there was no sign of surprise at what I had said.

The western light flickered through the vines onto his face, showing up his clear fine skin and the two scars, the long black lashes. His narrowed eyes, glinting dark green, as they did when he concentrated. He put a cigarette in his mouth and left it without lighting it.

I watched him.

He was so beautiful.

A little throb jumped into life in my groin.

"Zen?"

He came back to me, took the cigarette from his mouth, blew out a long breath, put his fag back and slowly lit it.

"The Colonnas, like the Orvinis, Bellatinis and the Ruspantis, have connections with the Vatican going way back." He hesitated as if he were about to say something more, then changed his mind.

"Do you see Amadeo these days?"

"I haven't for a while. Should I not? Should I not trust him? "

A faint smile from him.

"As much as anyone."

I looked at my watch.

"Anything else?"

"No." I must have sounded uncertain because he looked at me questioningly.

"No." Nothing he would be interested in.

"I have an engagement at 8.30 and I have to get ready."

"You look fine to me"

I left first. I knew he was watching my back.

Driving home, the throb was still there.

I could hear Ruspanti's voice:

_'Don't get serious with the clients'_

And then, another Ruspanti rule;

'_Don't__ stay the night, always go home__' _

I do, Ludo, I do.

_'Don't bring your work home_. '

He's not work, Ludo.

Yes I know; he stayed the night with me, in _my_ bed, in _my_ apartment. You would be horrified but he is _not_ a client, Ludo.

And yes Ludo, I have broken your cardinal rule.

You see, I am in love with him.

.

My client needed an escort to a party and had a hotel room booked for later so it was near to five when I got home.

It seemed as though I had only just got into bed when the doorbell rang, and then there was a banging and the bell again, and again,

"Arianna !"

I struggled into consciousness. I pulled on a tee shirt and last night's knickers and stumbled only half awake to the door.

It was Zen.

Who else?

"God, Zen. What the hell do you want?"

"Arianna, are you ok?"

"No I 'm bloody not. What the hell time is it?

He grabbed me by my forearms.

"Arianna, wake up. Cioni is dead!"

"What? Who? Cioni? He can't be."

He followed me into my sitting room and we sat down on the couch together. I had not quite taken it in.

"He was found a couple of hours ago. Stabbed. In Orvini's Merc. In the alley at the back of the Cardinal's palace."

I gaped at him. I still was not quite sensible.

"I just wanted to be sure you were OK."

He looked at me.

"I was afraid ... You'd better have a cup of coffee e? You look as if you need one."

I was beginning to shake. He went into my little kitchen.

"I'm on my way over to the Vatican. I came here as soon as I heard." He called.

He brought two cups of instant.

"When did it ... did they find him?"

"About five, but Orvini said he didn't turn up for work yesterday and the car was missing."

I bit my lip to stop shaking.

"Zen." My teeth were chattering. "Zen, there's something I didn't tell you. I thought it wasn't important."

He knelt in front of me holding my hands.

"When I go to the Cardinal, Cioni drives me there and picks me up later. I don't how he knows when. I suppose someone rings the carphone because he is, was, always there waiting for me except the other night. He wasn't there. I waited for a while and walked down the alley to see... He didn't turn up. I rang for a taxi. "

I bit my lip.

"I didn't think it was important."

"You didn't see anyone, anything, a car?"

"God Zen, it was three in the morning."

He sat back down on the couch, his arms on his knees, his face in his hands.

"Christ, what have I got you into?"

"Is it the 'family'?"

"I don't know, Arianna. Maybe. The Vatican too, somehow. Then there's this Cabal. They're all tied up somehow. All I know is three men have died and they are all connected somehow with the Cabal and the Vatican.

"Three ...but"

"Ruspanti, Perotto, and now, Cioni".

"Zen, Ruspanti killed himself, and Perotto."

"Yes, _yes, _ but something drove him to it and he was connected to the Cabal and Perotto the same. Well. We know how Perotto died but the Cabal is there too.

Cioni dies on the night that you hear a message about the Cabal."

He paused, and then went on.

"Amadeo," he hesitated again. "had a brother who died. He wanted to talk to me about the Cabal. He was afraid. He was murdered. There was no investigation; his body was spirited away into the Vatican."

"You don't think Amadeo...?"

"No, but anyone can be driven to kill." He chewed his lip.

"You don't have to go on doing this for me."

"Yes, I do. Especially now, now Cioni...! He was a nice man. "

"Think about it. If you want out, I will understand."

He stood.

"I must go."

At the door I caught hold of his sleeve. He swung around, pushing me against the wall, his mouth hungry on mine.

And the greedy demanding flame was there again in my groin for him.

My fingers were in his hair, twisting to pull him closer and we were on the floor without knowing how we got there, pulling our clothes off, desperate to feel our bodies together.

I lost my breath as his mouth moved over my face and throat. I struggled to free my arms to pull his mouth back to mine.

We didn't say anything to each other

It was all touch and movement, fast, hot and hard, soft sounds, gasps and moans.

It could have been minutes; it could have been hours.

I don't know.

He didn't ask if I was ready, he knew. We came together in an explosive, rolling climax which shook us both.

He lay, with his mouth against my throat, then looked at me. We were both slick with sweat, hair sticking to our faces.

"Right by the door," he said, laughter in his voice. "I hope nobody was passing; it was a bit loud."

"You could have made sure we were on the carpet. I must have dozens of splinters in my arse."

"I would be delighted to check for you."

He sat up.

"I've got to go." I ran a finger across his wet shoulder.

"You'll need a shower before you go."

He nodded slowly and getting up, picked up his clothes and went to the bathroom.

.

I pulled on my tee shirt and knickers and waited for him.

.

I have been on the game since I was twenty. It has given me a very high standard of living; I love it and everything that goes with it, the parties, the social life, and expensive holidays.

The sex too.

So maybe I have had lovers with more experience, with more expertise, more stamina but it is true when they say love gives more than these.

Love gives a splendour all its own.

And I love him.

He is the only one I have ever loved.

Does he love me?

Who knows?

I know he cares about me.

But love?

Perhaps I will know one day.

Until then I will take what I can get.

.

Christ! It wasn't yet half past seven.

He came out of the bathroom, his face with that freshly showered look, his hair a mass of tight wet curls around it.

I should have been at the crime scene, an hour ago." he said awkwardly. I walked with him to the door and stood against the wall. He stopped with one hand on the catch

"You can stop anytime you want."

"I know."

He bent and kissed me, a soft brush of his mouth against mine.

The door clicked and he was gone.

I slid down against the wall till I was sitting on the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees.

I thought.

I was afraid.

I was nervy and jumpy, my stomach churning.

But I felt taut, alert, alive.

I had a purpose in life.


End file.
